The name game

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By another name would smell as sweet."
Juliet ~ Romeo and Juliet


I like to make my students angry. Not in a "let's lose our temper and key our teacher's car" way, but a more controlled and constructive manner. I want my students to get worked up about injustice and unfairness, to get upset about things like racism and the glass ceiling, and use their anger to think of ways they can better society.

You would think that teaching at an HBCU in the deep south, this would be relatively easy. Confederate flags, blatant use of the n-word, a state legislature that refuses to apologize for slavery, yet adopts April as southern independence month, bumper stickers embracing confederate ideology, the tendency to call Black men "boy" and white women " honey", these are just a few of the things that make my toes curl. Alas. my students apparently seem to disagree. No matter how worked up I get in class (and trust me, one of these days I will give myself an aneurysm), my students still seem more preoccupied with the usual college concerns: who is dating whom, who made it into which sorority, where the next big party/probate/step/screening is, and of course who said what to whom and why.

But today, I finally got one of my students to get mad. In my ten o'clock class, we were talking about the representation of African Americans in the news, and how the presence of African American anchors does not always have to indicate that society is moving ahead in getting rid of its racist stereotypes. One of my students shared a story about an African American news anchor with whom she interned. This anchor, in order to make it in a larger market, had gotten rid of her afro, had started wearing business suits, and had changed her name to something more "generic". Most of the students nodded in understanding, but a little cluster up front seemed last than happy.

I asked the students what was going on, and one male student, let's call him Brendan, spoke up; "That is absolutely ridiculous. You should be able to be who you are. If they don't like your name, screw them, you don't want to work for them!"
This led to a fierce debate, with one half of the class claiming you had to pay the bills somehow, and the other half claiming that it didn't matter what your name was when you made it big, as long as you were the Black man or woman who did.
But Brendan was not to be dissuaded; "But it does matter! How many white people go around changing their names?!"
One girl spoke up, "But that's not the point. White names are the standard in the industry. If you have some weird name, everyone is going to think you're ghetto or something. If changing my name is going to make it easier for me to get a job, then so be it. You have to face reality you know. You can't live in some fantasy world where everyone is going to have equal chances."
Sadly, that hit home with most of the class. However, Brendan had one last arrow on his bow; "Well, you know what, where I'm going to go, it's going to be like this. You don't know how to spell my name? That's OK, it's B-R-E-N-D-A-N, and now please get me some coffee."

Sugar and cream?